


bad coffee & lemon bars

by abillionstars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abillionstars/pseuds/abillionstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa, on first impression, looks nothing like the devil from hell that Hajime soon learns him to be. Rather, he looks soft and handsome, wrapped up in a scarf to ward away the autumn chill, hair perfectly styled and brown eyes warm. He is taller than Hajime, his clothes just thin enough to cling to the defined muscle of his arms and Hajime reflects that he really is good-looking.</p><p>It really is too bad that his order is the stupidest thing that Hajime has ever heard.</p><p>(in which iwaizumi is the new barista at Karasuno's Coffee + Bakery and Oikawa is the pretty asshole with horrific coffee choices)</p>
            </blockquote>





	bad coffee & lemon bars

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: for the sake of my life being less complicated, I've elected to pretend that Karasuno's Coffee + Bakery uses a system close to Starbucks, because otherwise I would go Insane trying to figure out coffee combinations ridiculous enough to seem plausible.

 “And that’s basically it!” Sugawara leans back against the counter and smiles at Hajime. “Latte machine’s still a little finicky, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Daichi’s an old pro at making the coffee and can I just say that we are _so_ glad to have you here. Like, we get plenty of baker applications and barista apps, but baker _and_ barista? You, my friend, are a godsend.”

“Thanks,” says Hajime distractedly, still a little in awe at the shop itself. Every surface is polished and shining, the glass windows immaculate. The in-house mugs are all lined up in gleaming rows, painted with the crow-and-feather motif that adorned the sign hanging outside with the words Karasuno's Coffee + Bakerypainted in thick san-serif text. 

“Anyway, we open in about ten minutes. You’ll have time to bake tomorrow, I promise, but right now we need you manning the cashier and coffee machines along with Yachi.” Sugawara wipes his hand across his forehead and glances at the clock, unaware of the flour streak he left behind. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine.”

Hajime learns three things over the next few days. 

1\. There are three other people that work at the shop other than himself, Sawamura, and Sugawara, who insisted that Hajime call him Suga. One is Yachi, a cute blonde girl that has been banned from using the coffee machines but is a fantastic cashier. Another is Hinata, an impressively hyper orange-headed kid who makes coffee faster than the rest of them but spills it more. And the last is Tsukishima, who spends half his time sniggering at Hinata’s cries of dismay over spilled coffee and the other half making lemon bars that make Hajime’s eyes roll just a tiny bit up into his head. 

2\. Karasuno Coffee + Bakery is impressively busy for a small local coffee shop. Hajime attributes that to Suga’s insanely charismatic personality. They have tons of regulars whose names Hajime is slowly starting to memorize: Kenma, a quiet boy with video games, whose coffee is ordered by his tall, messy-haired friend Kuroo; Nishinoya, whose hair rivals another regular, Bokuto; Kiyoko, whom Yachi can’t stop blushing around, et cetera.

3\. One of these regulars, whose name is spoken in dire tones by Hinata and Sawamura, is a _fucking pretentious asshole._ And luckily for Hajime, he meets this regular on only his third day.

“Non-fat frappuccino with extra whipped cream, caramel, and chocolate sauce, to-go!” Yachi calls back from the cash register. Sawamura bangs his head against the wall, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “ _not again_ ,” and Hajime is confused.

“What kind of an order is that?” Hajime snaps, hands already moving to make the order. 

“It’s Oikawa,” says Sawamura in a tone so full of resignation and regret. “I should’ve known the minute I heard a ton of girls come into our shop. I thought that maybe they heard that our Pumpkin Spice Latte is back.” He throws his hands up into the air and says mournfully, "I was so wrong."

Suga sticks his head out of the back as Hajime shakes the whipped cream canister. “I hear a gaggle of girls. Is Oikawa here?” he asks teasingly, smiling.

“Yes,” says Sawamura, voice dark. “With one of his orders from hell.”

Suga laughs. “Don’t be cruel. He’s good for business.”

Hajime finishes drizzling on the chocolate sauce and walks up to the counter. “Non-fat frappuccino for Oikawa,” he says.

“Oh, that’s me!”

Oikawa, on first impression, looks nothing like the devil from hell that Hajime soon learns him to be. Rather, he looks soft and handsome, wrapped up in a scarf to ward away the autumn chill, hair perfectly styled and brown eyes warm. He is taller than Hajime, his clothes just thin enough to cling to the defined muscle of his arms and Hajime reflects that he really was good-looking.

It really is too bad that his order is the stupidest thing that Hajime has ever heard.

Perhaps Hajime stands there for just a second too long, because Oikawa cocks an eyebrow, gives Hajime a blank, fake smile and says, “Is there a problem?”

And—oh god, Hajime is not an _impulse_ guy, he’s a rational person, but it’s something about Oikawa’s face, his fake smile, that makes him splutter out, “Why did you _order_ that?”

The other eyebrow goes up. Oikawa, looking taken aback, takes a pointed sip of his ridiculously complicated coffee and says, “It tastes good.”

“Yes, but— _non-fat_? Really? And then you go ahead and put whipped cream on it? I mean, what is the _point_?”

The longer Hajime talks, the louder he gets, until both Sawamura and Yachi are gaping at him and Hajime is just completely and utterly mortified. Oikawa, on the other hand, merely laughs and says cheerily, “Still tastes good. Thanks for the coffee, Iwaizumi-san!” before sailing out of the door, and taking his fangirls with him (many of whom are glaring at Hajime). The shop seems curiously empty after he leaves. Hajime’s face is burning.

“Well,” says Sawamura, thoughtfully. “Not going to lie, I’ve always thought of doing that to him, but maybe in the future…don't insult the customer's order?”

Hajime bangs his head against the counter. 

 

It’s a week after and Hajime’s peacefully kneading dough in the back of the shop when he hears Hinata shriek, “A WHAT?”

A few seconds later, Yachi pokes her blonde head through the door and says timidly, “Uh, Iwaizumi-san? It’s Oikawa again and uh…Hinata’s not really used to taking Oikawa’s orders, because it’s always Sawamura-san who’s around but right now…”

Right now Sawamura and Suga were out, presumably off on one of their dates, leaving Hajime technically in charge. Hajime groans, washes his hands, curses his fate, and returns to see Oikawa impatiently waiting and Hinata flailing his hands around like a crazy person.

“What’s the order now?” snaps Hajime, and is completely unprepared for the way that Oikawa’s face just _lights_ up when Hajime appears. It’d be sweet on any other customer. Hajime isn’t accustomed to being someone’s favorite.

“Hey, hey, Iwaizumi-san!” Oikawa says, waving frantically like Hajime isn’t three feet in front of him. “My favorite barista!”

“What’d he order now?” Hajime asks Yachi, who winces.

“You’re not going to like it,” she says.

Hajime braces himself. “Hit me,” he says with the air of a man going to war.

“Quad grande, non fat, extra hot caramel macchiato upside down.” Yachi takes a step back and bites at her nails.

Hajime takes a second to breathe before he roars, “UPSIDE DOWN?” at Oikawa, who smiles benevolently back at him. “Are you _crazy_?”

“Ah, ah,” says Oikawa, waving his hands in front of him as if to dispel Hajime’s anger. “I’m sure Iwaizumi-san is _more_ than capable of creating a masterpiece like that.”

Breathe, Hajime tells himself. Breathe and do _not_ throw something at this fool. For a minute, he pictures it: the beautiful arc of a french press colliding with the smug smile of the asshole in front of him. But instead, he turns and stalks to the coffee machine, creating this truly absurd order with as much finesse as he can.

“Here,” he grinds out, thrusting the order Oikawa’s way. Yachi and Hinata watch with apprehension as Oikawa takes a sip—and Hajime’s anger turns into something significantly more embarrassed when Oikawa lets out a noise of such pleasure that Hajime’s cheeks flush red.

“Perfect,” says Oikawa, grinning at Hajime like he knows exactly what’s going on in Hajime’s mind. “Thanks for the coffee, Iwa-chan!”

At first, it’s the compliment that sticks out in Hajime’s head, and then when Oikawa’s almost at the door, it registers what exactly he said. 

“Did he just…call me Iwa-chan?” says Hajime flatly, caramel sauce bottle still in hand.

“Yes,” says Hinata with some trepidation, and then lets out a squawk as Hajime squeezes the bottle so tightly that caramel squirts up to the _ceiling_. The next fifteen minutes are spent trying to get it off the ceiling, the result of which is Hinata on top of Hajime’s shoulders as Yachi tosses towels and soap up to him, and when Suga and Sawamura walk through the door and see the tableau in front of them, they start laughing and cannot stop.

 

His life is not blissfully Oikawa-free after that. Rather, the opposite. Oikawa starts showing up even more frequently with his groupies trailing after him. His coffee orders, if possible, get even more elaborate, and what's worse, he won't stop calling Hajime by that _damn nickname._

“STOP CALLING ME IWA-CHAN,” Hajime has yelled on multiple occasions, much to Oikawa’s cackling amusement. 

He starts retaliating by calling Oikawa ‘Trashkawa’ or ‘Shittykawa’ much to the scandalization of Oikawa. (“ _Iwa-chan,_ so _mean_!”) It helps until he realizes with some dismay, two weeks later, that he actively turns to the sound of “Iwa-chan!” This is, he reflects, a truly dark time in his life.

It gets even worse when Oikawa discovers that Hajime is one of the bakers.

It happened so fast: Oikawa complimenting a blueberry scone, Yachi absently saying that the batch was baked by Hajime, and suddenly Hajime’s arms were full of a swooning Oikawa praising his culinary skill and begging Hajime to “ _Run away with me, Iwa-chan, I’ll pay you so much to cook me food all the time_ ” and so forth along that thread until Hajime unceremoniously dumped him on the floor, stepped over his body, and continued making coffee.

“Bake me something lemon-flavored next time!” Oikawa calls over his shoulder as he exits Karasuno’s Coffee.

Sawamura and Tsukishima find it endlessly amusing, Suga and Yachi find it cute, Hinata is confused and somewhat intimidated around Oikawa, and Hajime is continuously pissed off.

(He denies to himself that Oikawa’s the reason he’s staying up until midnight looking up lemon-based recipes. He just really likes citrus-y pastries. It has nothing to do with the pleased little hum Oikawa makes when he bites into something he likes.)

(He denies it also to Tsukishima and Suga, both of him taking the _shit_ out of him when they see him making lemon macarons the next day.)

(It’s all worth it when Oikawa bites into the macaron, makes the happy noise Hajime was definitely not waiting for, and buys five more. “Iwa-chan,” he says, voice so dazed, so happy, “Iwa-chan, you are _amazing_.”)

However, other than his ridiculous orders, Hajime knows next to nothing about Oikawa, until one bleary winter morning when Kuroo walks in the door just in time to see Hajime scrub his floury hands through Oikawa’s hair to much screeching of, “Abuse, this is abuse, Iwa-chan! I’m never coming back here again!”

“Good!” shouts Hajime, completely unconcerned. Oikawa makes a betrayed noise and stalks out, pride as ruffled as his hair. Kuroo steps around him and to the counter, and Hajime smiles. “What can I get you, Kuroo?”

“Um, black coffee, to-go,” says Kuroo absently, and then says, “Was that Oikawa Tooru?”

Tooru. Hajime pours coffee and resolutely does not think of that name and how soft it sounds, how his mouth would shape around it. “Maybe,” he says. “I just know of him as Oikawa. Or Trashkawa, depending on how fucked-up his coffee order is. Black coffee, here you are.”

“Huh,” says Kuroo. “Definitely Oikawa, then.”

He sounds amused and even a little fond, and probably would’ve walked away had Hajime not said with some surprise, “You know him?”

“Know him?” Kuroo laughs. “We played against each other in college. Volleyball. He was a genius on the court. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t on the national team.” He toasts Hajime with his paper cup, a sardonic little smile twisting his lip. “Thanks for the coffee, man.”

 _Tooru_ , Hajime mouths to himself, pressing his fingers against his lips and feeling like a middle-schooler with a crush all over again.

It’s a while before Oikawa comes back, but when he does, it’s late at night and Hajime is the only one in the shop. “Iwa-chan,” he says, mouth so sweet around the nickname, sliding a chair up close to the counter and resting his chin on the cool marble. “Make me coffee.”

“Hell no, you’ll be up all night,” Hajime replies and resists the urge to run his fingers through Oikawa’s hair.

Oikawa makes an unhappy noise and presses his cheek against the counter. “‘M _tired_ ,” he whines and Hajime rolls his eyes. “Food. Gimme.”

“What are you, _four_?”

Oikawa cracks open one lovely brown eye, and Hajime folds. There hasn’t been a time, he reflected, when he was able to stand up and exert his right to refuse service to Oikawa. “I’ll make you tea,” he compromised, “and Tsukishima baked some lemon bars earlier today and they’re pretty good.”

"Hmm," says Oikawa before taking a bite. He says, voice muffled, "Yours are better," and Hajime almost drops the mug he’s holding. Instead, he clears his throat, wills away the flush in his cheeks, and boils water.

Since nobody else is probably going to come this late and Hajime was about to close up shop anyway, he makes two cups of tea and drags up his own chair to join Oikawa. After the first sip, Oikawa looks up and smiles at him so tiredly but so honestly, and Hajime thinks to himself, _I could get used to seeing this smile_. Instead, he blurts out, “One of our other regulars knows you, y’know.”

The smile remains but turns decidedly more confused. “Who?” asks Oikawa.

“Kuroo…dark hair, messy? Really tall, has some blonde short boyfriend that’s always playing video games.”

“Oh, him.” Now, Oikawa’s smile is completely gone. “Yes. We, uh, used to play against each other.”

“Volleyball,” supplied Hajime, word tripping over itself in his mouth at the carefully blank look on Oikawa’s face. “I used to play too, in high school.”

Oikawa smiles again, but it’s fake, and Hajime curses himself. “Really? What position? I was a setter.”

“Wing spiker.”

“Mm.” Oikawa drags his eyes up and down Hajime’s body and Hajime resists a shiver. “Yeah, I can see it.”

They’re quiet for a moment as Oikawa slowly munches on his lemon bars and Hajime struggles for something to say, eventually landing on, “Do you still play?”

Immediately, he knows he’s hit a sour spot, because Oikawa’s face goes still, eyes fixated on the steam rising from his tea. “No,” Oikawa says finally. “I don’t.”

Hajime has absolutely no idea what to say to that, and he just remains quiet until Oikawa says, “In, uh, high school, I overworked myself and fucked up my right knee. It healed, and I thought everything was going to be fine, but, uh, it wasn’t? It happened again, in college, and the doctor said I wouldn’t be able to play again, competitively, which really…it really _fucking sucked_.” Some latent bitterness seeps into his voice and he shakes his head, pressing a hand to his forehead, before looking up and smiling. “But it’s fine now.”

It very clearly isn’t, but Hajime doesn’t press. “Eat your lemon bars,” he says, and Oikawa’s smile grows a little realer before he obeys. Vaguely, Hajime thinks to himself how gorgeous Oikawa is, how obnoxious he sounds when he gorges himself on lemon bars (the cost of which are definitely coming out of Hajime's paycheck), and he wonders if there was ever a time when he hadn't loved this fool.

 

The end of January is near and perhaps there’s something in the coffee but suddenly everybody seems to be falling in love.

Suga and Sawamura were always disgustingly in love, but suddenly Tsukishima starts bringing this freckled boy along and they kiss in Hajime’s peripheral vision. The boy even calls him Tsukki and Tsukishima doesn’t kill him, and if that isn’t love, Hajime doesn’t know what is. Even Hinata has a boyfriend, some sullen black-haired guy who spends half his time arguing with Hinata and the other half looking at him like he's hung the moon. Hajime can relate.

“It’s because Valentine’s Day is coming up,” Yachi says wisely. “Everybody wants to have a date.”

Then she squeaks and dives under the counter because Kiyoko has just walked through the door. Hajime sighs, looks down at Yachi and back up at Kiyoko, and says, “What can I get for you?”

“Cappuccino, please,” says Kiyoko, and Hajime steps away from the counter in order to make it. When he returns, Yachi is still plastered to the ground and Kiyoko is looking around almost like she’s looking for someone. 

So naturally, Hajime asks, “Are you looking for something?”

Kiyoko startles, turns to him and says with an apologetic smile, “Oh no, just…Whatever happened to the blonde girl? Who worked here? I just feel bad—she disappeared after she accidentally spilled coffee on me and I really hope she wasn’t fired.”

Yachi makes a noise like a dying cat. Hajime coughs loudly to cover it up.

“No, she’s fine.” Hajime shrugs and hands over the cappuccino. “You just must be here at the wrong times. She’s on break right now.”

“Ah.” Kiyoko’s eyebrows draw together as she contemplates this, and then she offers Hajime a slight smile. “Thank you for the coffee.”

The minute the bell tinkles behind her, Hajime looks down at Yachi and says dryly, “She’s gone.”

“Thank you Iwaizumi-san.” Yachi springs to her feet and bows repeatedly, flushing bright pink before her face crumples. “Oh my god, she remembers me as the girl who spilled coffee on her. I think I’m going to puke.”

That’s how Hajime finds himself rubbing Yachi’s back in soothing circles as she panics about Kiyoko. 

“Look,” he says finally. “She obviously liked you enough that she didn’t want to be fired. Why not…ask her out?”

“I can’t _do_ that.” Yachi twists her hands, rocking back and forth. “What if she says _no_?”

“Then that sucks, but at least you got out there. At least you tried.” Hajime smiles ruefully. “That’s the important part, at least.”

“She’s _so cool_ ,” wails Yachi. “Did you know she has a tattoo on her lower back? She wore a crop top once and I saw it and she’s _so out of my league_ , senpai, it’s ridiculous.”

Tell me about it, Hajime thinks, but outwardly he says sternly, “Yachi, that’s not true at all. You are _just_ as cool as her. You’re—you’re kind, sweet, and everybody in this shop loves you.” It's sappy, he knows, but it's also indelibly true. 

Yachi gazes up at him with such a starstruck expression that Hajime feels uncomfortable and rubs a hand over the back of his head. Then his breath leaves him with an _oof_ when Yachi wraps her arms tight around him and squeezes, saying muffled gratitudes into the fabric of his apron. After a minute, he hugs back.

 

Because Suga is the kindest soul on the planet, he bakes Yachi a cake when she comes in screaming about how Kiyoko said yes, and even closes up shop early so that they could have a makeshift party. Because he is also evil, he also invites Oikawa with a sly glance in Hajime’s direction.

“ _Why_ ,” hisses Hajime and Suga gives a demure little smile.

“I like Oikawa,” Suga says simply, and then laughs at the look on Hajime’s face. “Like he isn’t your favorite regular.”

The sad fact is, Oikawa is Hajime’s favorite regular, and boy does Oikawa know and exploit that fact. There’s nary a week that doesn’t pass with the brown-haired terror popping up with a, “Yoo-hoo, Iwa-chan!” and a demand for some newfangled and impossibly stupid coffee that makes Hajime want to kick him over the head. 

He expects the party to be much the same. He doesn’t expect Oikawa to bring a date.

She’s beautiful. That's the first thing Hajime thinks. She looks like one of those old 70's stars: all flawless black hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, and dark eyes rimmed with kohl. What's worse is that the minute she comes in on Oikawa’s arm, laughing at what he says, everybody turns to look at Hajime and he finds himself crushing the cup in his hand. Suga, especially, looks horrified, and Hajime’s mind is blank until a roaring surge of embarrassment sets in.

He must’ve looked so stupid, so obvious, in his pining for Oikawa, and now he just looked even more stupid and more obvious in his jealousy.

“This is Aida-chan,” Oikawa is saying, and Aida beams, glossy red lips. “Aida-chan, this is everybody.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sawamura is the first to say, and the others chime in as well, and Hajime leaves to get some air. Because he can't lie right now, can't go up to Oikawa's date and say that it's nice to meet her, not when his heart was ripping itself to pieces. 

It’s cold out, as winter isn’t quite yet over, and Hajime desperately wants a smoke, even though he quit that habit years ago.

“Stupid,” he says out loud to the dark streets, and wonders if he means the habit, Oikawa, or himself.

He’s pondering whether or not he should go back inside when the rattle of the screen door opening startles him and he jumps, turning around. “Hey,” says Sawamura, awkward and looking like he wished to be anywhere but there. Hajime could relate. “How you, uh, how you holding up?”

Hajime shrugs. He doesn’t bother asking how Sawamura knew. "He never talks about girls," he says finally. 

"Yeah."

"I thought..." Hajime scrubs a hand over his face and laughs ruefully. "Ah, well, it doesn't matter any more." 

Sawamura is quiet until he says, “Are you going to head back in there?”

Hajime really doesn't want to. But he helped set up Yachi and Kiyoko, and he genuinely likes his co-workers, so he nods and stands up.

“You don’t have to.”

Hajime lets out a long breath. "Nah," he says finally. "I'll be fine."

It takes constant effort and vigilance, but he manages to duck Oikawa and his girlfriend the entire night long. Near the end, he catches Oikawa looking at him, brow furrowed, and Hajime takes a long drink of vodka, figures he’s stayed long enough, and leaves. He takes the bottle, because Suga wouldn’t mind, and drinks himself into a stupor that night. Maybe he cries a little. Maybe not. He's too drunk to remember, anyway.

 

The hangover the next morning is stupendous. 

“Wow,” says Yachi, eyes round, when Hajime stumbles in the next morning wishing he was still in his comfortable bed. “Wow, Iwaizumi-san, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” says Hajime and slams his way into the bakery to make peach tarts to emphasize how perfectly _peachy_ he is. Suga looks up when he comes in, opens his mouth like he wishes to say something, but the black look on Hajime’s face dissuades him from any immediate speech.

Twenty minutes later, though, he says, “I’m sorry about what happened last night.”

Hajime mixes the flour and eggs together a little harder than he should and says, “Yeah. Me too.”

 

It’s late in the afternoon when Hinata taps on the door and says, “Iwaizumi-san? Oikawa’s here.”

“Sawamura’s here,” grunts out Hajime, chopping up peaches with such ferocity that Suga looks on the verge of taking the knife away from him. 

“Yes but…” Hinata trails off, looking adorably confused. “Don’t you…”

“Don’t I _what_?” says Hajime, slamming the knife down and staring to put the peaches onto the mascarpone.

Hajime perhaps snaps that a little too loudly, because Hinata squeaks out, “Nothing!” and disappears back to the front.

Hajime arranges peaches resolutely and does not _care_. He has a headache and does not want to deal with Oikawa now or ever. He just—honestly, he just wants to sit on the bakery and eat everything surrounding him, but currently he had to  _make_ the food, which was even more of a downer. 

It’s not five minutes later that Yachi comes in and cautiously hands Hajime a note. “It’s from Oikawa-san.”

When he doesn’t take it from her, Yachi heaves a little sigh and drops the note next to his cutting board. “Just read it?” she pleads, and the full force of her puppy-dog expression makes Hajime exhale and reach for the innocuous slip of paper.

It’s not an apology—it’s not at all what he expects. It is simply a, “Feel better soon, Iwa-chan!” and a little drawing of a cup of coffee. The drawing is horrific. He shouldn’t be smiling.

“He read it!” Yachi hollers to the front.

“Is he still moping?” Hinata hollers back.

“Shut up!” snaps Hajime. “I’m not—I’m not _moping_.” He’s definitely moping. “What, uh, what did you guys tell him?”

“Uh, Sawamura-san covered for you. Said you were sick. He didn’t look convinced, but Sawamura-san can be…very intimidating,” says Yachi, plucking a peach slice off the cutting board and popping it into her mouth.

“Ah,” Hajime says and swats away her hand when she reaches for another.

He doesn’t see Oikawa for a few days after that, but it’s just his luck that he’s alone in the front with Tsukishima in the back when Oikawa shows up. Hajime plasters a smile on his face. “Welcome to Karasuno's Coffee + Bakery,” he says flatly.

“Iwa-chan,” says Oikawa, face flushed from the cold outside, eyes very wide. “I, uh, you weren’t here last time.”

“Sick,” said Hajime.

“Right.” Oikawa doesn’t look fooled at all. 

Before he can say anything else, Hajime butts in with a, “What will your order be today?”

“Triple, venti, soy, no-foam latte,” says Oikawa and then gives Hajime an expectant look. 

Hajime doesn’t rise to the bait. He is a professional. It's—it's _stupid_ and  _childish_  to belittle the customer's coffee order. It's like the equivalent of pulling pigtails. “Will that be all?” he asks, and watches Oikawa deflate like an old balloon. His chest vaguely hurts.

“Yes,” says Oikawa, voice very soft, and steps aside for the next customer. 

As Hajime makes another stupid coffee order, his eyes keep darting over to Oikawa. He looks strangely bereft without his gaggle of fangirls and tired, too. Iwa-chan, he said, but he also called that woman Aida-chan, and Hajime curses his own stupidity. Of course Oikawa was straight. 

“Soy venti,” he says and Oikawa steps up, eyes fixated on Hajime’s face.

“Iwa-chan,” and Oikawa’s voice is disappointed and hurt, “What’s wrong? Why—“

“Bad day,” says Hajime, because there was no way he could say, ' _Well I really hoped to date the hell out of you and now I'm suffering thanks to my own stupidity. Also, you look really nice today.'_   

Oikawa eyes him, mouth pursed, and then drops a five dollar bill in the tip jar before giving Hajime a weak smile and a salute. “Thanks for the coffee,” he says, and leaves Hajime standing there at the counter hopelessly in love.

 

It is probably pathetic that Hajime’s the 7th wheel. Not even the third. Hinata’s dating some dude named Kageyama, and since Hinata and Kenma are “ _best friends, Iwaizumi-san!_ ”, Kenma and Kuroo are also coming, and Kuroo just _happened_ to invite his friend Bokuto who’s dragging along his boyfriend Akaashi, and long story short, Hajime is in the middle of a gay lover’s fest and is completely alone.

Why am I here, he thinks.

“Hmm,” says Kuroo when he arrives and sees an odd number of people. “That’s awkward.”

“Thanks, Kuroo,” says Hajime.

“What? What’s awkward?” asks Bokuto, and after a long moment in which his boyfriend, Kuroo, and Hinata all stare at him like he's crazy, seems to realize that Hajime’s the only person without a date. “No worries, Iwaizumi! I have a friend who’s free tonight and he is _also_ single!”

Hajime blinks as Bokuto texts a message to his mystery friend.

“He’ll come soon,” says Bokuto confidently.

It’s twenty minutes later that Oikawa comes into the bar and makes a beeline for them, and Hajime realizes that Oikawa was indeed the mystery man.

“What,” says Hajime, “the fuck.”

“Iwa-chan,” says Oikawa, a smile flickering on his face for a moment. “I, ah.”

“Oikawa!” bellows Bokuto with a huge grin. “Sit down, man! I didn’t know you knew Iwaizumi!”

“Yeah.” Oikawa’s eyes haven’t moved from Hajime, and it is Hajime that breaks eye contact first, scowling down into his beer. “I didn’t realize this was a sort of…triple date thing.”

“Quadruple date, now you’re here,” says Kuroo from where he’s eyeing Oikawa and Hajime. Hajime scowls at him. “Well come on, Oikawa, sit down.”

The only open seat is next to Hajime. Hajime hates his life as Oikawa settles down lightly, the subtle scent of his cologne wafting through the air.

Oikawa is quiet for the first ten minutes, and so is Hajime, as they sit next to each other. The others make up for their silence, telling jokes and tossing insults, and Hajime’s fists clench.

He can’t help it. He leans sideways and says, “Uh, sorry about your girlfriend.”

Oikawa looks at him, askance. “My girlfriend?”

Hajime shrugs. It’s pretty much all he can do. “Bokuto said you were single, and uh, I’m sorry that you broke up with her. She seemed nice.”

Oikawa’s still staring at him. “Girlfriend?”

“Yes,” says Hajime, fighting a surge of irritation. “Aida? You brought her to Yachi’s party?”

Something clears in Oikawa’s face. “Oh, Aida-chan? She’s just a friend.”

Hajime’s mind goes blank. “What?”

Oikawa’s eyes sparkle, his smile reappearing on his face. He looks like he just found out a secret. “Yes,” he says. “She recently broke up with her boyfriend, so I thought it’d be nice to introduce her to some new people.”

Hajime has absolutely nothing to say to that. 

Oikawa leans closer. His cologne smells like the outdoors, smells warm and soothing and decidedly Oikawa-ish. “Were you jealous?” he says lowly, smiling so much that his eyes crinkle up at the corners.

Hajime shoves his face away. “No,” he spits, feeling his face flush. Oikawa gives a delighted laugh. Fucking Trashkawa.

 

At the end of the night, the air is cold enough that Hajime’s breath mists, mingles with the ghostly trails of Oikawa’s breath as Oikawa says, “Give me your phone, Iwa-chan.”

“You would be the worst mugger,” says Hajime, but hands it over anyway. Oikawa fiddles with it for a second, takes a selfie, and then hands it back to him. “What’d you do?”

“Put my contact information, of course,” says Oikawa cheerily. “Now you can text me. That is, if you want to.”

“Assikawa, hell no I don’t want to.”

“Too bad!” Oikawa winks at him and hails a taxi. “Catch you later, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime scrolls down his contact list and locates it immediately: _Oikawa Tooru_ , with Oikawa’s smug face smiling out at him. It's not endearing at all. It's  _not_.

 

The next day, when he deems that enough time has passed, he texts a simple, _Hey_.

 _Iwa-chan!!!!!!!!!!!_ he receives two minutes later. Hajime rolls his eyes and continues baking. Seconds later, a new text comes in, saying _i’m coming in 2day, plz bake me something nice!!!!_

 _Fuck off, Trashikawa_ , Hajime texts back and receives a sad emoji.

If he’s baking lemon scones today, well, nobody has to know why. Suga’s clearly suspecting something, a little half-smile playing on his face as his eyes dart from the grated lemons to Hajime’s face.

“What,” says Hajime.

“Nothing,” says Suga, and then, as if he can’t help himself, “Hinata told me about last night.”

Hajime says nothing.

“I think you should go for it,” continues Suga, and, well, there goes Hajime’s good mood. Judging from the way Suga’s smile drops off his face, he clearly notices. “What, do you not like him?”

Hajime scoffs. “I—you know _very well_ that I do.”

“Then what’s the matter?” Suga spreads his floury hands apart, like he’s appealing to the gods for sage advice. 

“I…” Hajime flattens his fingers against the counter and says, voice cracking, “I like him _so_ much.”

 _And I don’t know if he likes me back_ , hangs over them, unspoken but obvious.

“Oh,” says Suga, soft, as he drops jam in the center of pastries and arrays them on a glass platter. When he’s finished, he wipes his hands on his apron and puts a hand on Hajime’s shoulder. It’s heavy and comforting and Hajime thinks distantly that Suga’s going to be a great parent someday. 

“Iwaizumi,” says Suga, and refuses to say more until Hajime lifts his head to look Suga straight in the eye. “Whenever Daichi makes the coffee, Oikawa _pouts_. He watches you like...like a _puppy_. He’s tipped more in the past four months than he’s tipped in like, a year.”

“That could mean anything,” argues Hajime weakly.

Suga gives Hajime a look that gently conveys how stupid he thinks Hajime is being. “Go ask him out. If he says yes, I’ll bake you a cake. If he doesn’t, I’ll give you so much ice cream you’ll be drowning in it.”

It's a pretty good deal. Hajime looks down at the batter he’s slowly mixing and throws some blueberries in it.

“I thought those were going to be lemon scones,” says Suga with a frown.

“They were,” says Hajime. “I’ve got a better idea, now.”

 

It’s three in the afternoon when the bell tinkles and Oikawa comes in, all smiles and pink cheeks. “Iwa-chan,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “can I talk to you for a second?”

“Uh, sure,” says Hajime, grabbing the small white box he’d wrapped up earlier today. “Yachi, can you watch the cash register for a second?”

Yachi nods, eyes wide. She looks precariously close to hyperventilating. Hajime is very conscious of their audience as Oikawa leads him to a more secluded part of the coffee shop.  

Oikawa gives the box a curious look but then shakes his head. He looks determined, a steely look in his eyes. “Iwa-chan,” he says again, and his smile is so sweet, so hopeful, that Hajime wants to kiss it. “Go out with me?”

It takes a moment for the words to register, and then Hajime’s heart is _soaring_ , he’s so _happy_ , and then he says, “Dammit.”

“Um,” says Oikawa. “Is that a no?”

“No, it’s not a no, it’s a—” Hajime sighs, shoves the white box into Oikawa’s chest. “Just open that.”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow, but does so. For a minute, he just stares and then says, “These are lemon bars.”

“Yes,” says Hajime grumpily, “and I made them because I was going to give them to you and ask you out, but you asshole, you beat me to the punch—”

Oikawa starts laughing and Hajime shuts up, watching Oikawa laugh. His chest feels very light. “Iwa-chan,” says Oikawa, and then just smiles at him, fingers clutching the white box very tightly.

“Yeah,” says Hajime, voice gruff, and he wants so very badly to thread his fingers through Oikawa’s hair and kiss him, and then it occurs to him that he _can_. So he does, and enjoys Oikawa’s squawk of surprise. It feels—it feels less good and more like coming home, like finding the other half of his soul, and what’s better is that Oikawa’s smiling into the kiss and making that happy hum that he makes when he eats a particularly good pastry or takes his first sip of his coffee.

It takes a moment for Hajime to muster up the strength to move away, but he does, tipping his head against Oikawa’s. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he says.

“Okay,” says Oikawa, fingers tangled in Hajime’s shirt. He looks dazed. It’s a good look on him.

“You’re, ah, you’re welcome to stay.” Hajime grins. "Suga's gonna bake us a cake."

Oikawa huffs out a laugh. “Iwa-chan,” he says, and his voice is so impossibly fond that Hajime wants to kick himself for being so oblivious. “You couldn’t tear me away if you tried.”

 

 

 

_(months later)_

“Get out,” says Hajime the minute Oikawa puts one toe in the shop. 

“So rude,” pouts Oikawa, flagrantly disobeying and moving closer to the counter. “And here I was, going to order some coffee and bring this coffee shop some well-needed revenue…”

“Look around you,” says Hajime. The coffee shop is bustling, practically bursting with customers. “Does it look like we need your trash service?”

Oikawa beams at him. “I want a grande, iced, sugar-free, vanilla latte with soy milk.”

“That is disgusting,” says Hajime, but he’s already moving to make it. “You disgust me.”

Oikawa tips extravagantly, making pointed noises of delight as he sips his coffee. It’s probably because he knows Hajime’s been saving up his tips to buy Oikawa a fantastic birthday gift. “Thanks for the coffee,” he says, and before Hajime can react, tugs Hajime closer by his apron and kisses him. 

Hajime lets him. Hajime even deepens the kiss for a brief moment, reveling in the quiet sound Oikawa lets out. He tastes like his disgusting coffee, and Hajime smiles before pushing Oikawa gently back. “See you tonight,” he says.

“See you,” says Oikawa, before heading out the door.

They would see each other tonight. And the night after that, and the nights of the week after that and probably the month after that. They would go on horrific double dates with Suga and Sawamura, who would mock them the entire night for their ridiculous courtships. It was absolutely ridiculous how much Hajime was looking forward to it, to this impossibly bright future. 

“We were all really rooting for you," says Yachi with a wink. "I'm really glad you guys got together."

“So am I,” says Hajime.

**Author's Note:**

> comes back from 3 years of aggressively Not Writing Fanfiction to this cliché bakery iwaoi shit. i am ashamed. thanks for reading, guys!


End file.
